The Beastly Covenant
by Ceridwen Lucius
Summary: She is a demon god desperate to break free from her prison. He is a Logicalist desperate to make a Covenant. Perhaps they can come together and give each other what they need. Or they will successfully tear each other apart. Based on the anime Luck and Logic, not the card game. OC/Olga Breakchild
1. Chapter 1

"Ugly Ox."

He called her that awful name again. Of course he had no idea what her name was because she refused to talk to him or any of the humans. The form she had taken was that of a small muskox with long, wooly brown hair and large horns. She was ugly like this, but she had purposely chosen to look that way.

He spoke once more. The sound of that terrible moniker grated on her ears. She was awake, but she ignored him. Despite his selfish desire to control her, he was not her master. Besides, he did not even know what or who she truly was yet. He still thought she was a stupid, mindless beast. That ridiculous human had no clue as to her true form or that she was capable of logical thought. Logicalists. Puh. She shifted her four legged, furry body with the big hideous face and bulging eyes in the pretense of waking up when he spoke the third time.

Dezirae. That was her name. She was a Foreigner from Tetraheaven, and not part of their world. However, she was here now and had gotten herself caught and imprisoned by these humans. This one for some reason had decided he wanted to own her, to form a covenant with her. She was not interested in the least.

"You will be mine one day soon. I will have the ultimate covenant, and you will make that happen," he swore to her like he had so many times before.

Dezirae opened her massive eyes, rolling over on the metal cot where she lay. Her eyes skirted over the human male. Young, egotistical, and handsome. His blond hair was wavy, curling at the ends that extended just below the nape of his neck. His hair would take on a strange lime green tint when the light fell on him in a certain way. His eyes, yellow-gold with a slit like pupil, gave him the appearance of being as much of an animal as she looked in her present form. Those eyes gazed upon her with coldness and cruelty, full of calculated self-indulgence and unadulterated greed. He wanted her. He was obsessed with her because he wanted to control her, to own her, to use her for a weapon for his own selfish gain. She was not sure what he truly desired; money, notoriety, power, or maybe all three. Usually the covetous desires in a human's heart were easy for her to ascertain, and she would use that greedy wish against them until she destroyed them.

The man, if she dared to call him that, had just passed over the threshold into manhood yet seemed so self-assured and single minded in his ambition and purpose in life which at the present was bringing her into subservience to him. As to why he wanted to control her, her intuition was coming up with nothing from him where his underlying motives were concerned. He should have been easy to read, like a book, but he was not. Men his age were usually preoccupied with sex and other human matters like part time jobs to make some sort of living or higher education to better themselves.

"I will have you," he told her, placing his palm against the glass window of her prison.

Dezirae stared at the hand. She wondered what it would be like to be touched by him. Would it feel as cold and hard as the expression in his eyes? Or would he feel warm, comforting, and inviting in direct contrast to his frosty and distant appearance? It had been too long since she had experienced the simple act of touch; a good, _right_ touch. The only contact she had with humans presently was when she overtook them in a Trancejack. There was no time to indulge in pleasurable physical contact like she once did. Her eyes met his, but only briefly before looking away.

This human bothered her on a whole different level. He seemed to have a power, a gift, the others did not. He could see things, sensing them with an innate power beyond that of his normal senses, a power beyond any human she had encountered. He could see the unseen. Predicting imminent events, acting as a seer or fortune teller of sorts, was his specialty. He could discern the outcomes of the futures of those around him with an extremely high accuracy. Thankfully, he had so far not been able to project an accurate future for her. She would never belong to him.

What would he do if she revealed her genuine form to him? She preferred to appear before the humans as a muskox either in the large, monstrous, hulking form of the creature after merging with a human; or the small, grotesque caricature she held at the moment. She had learned that the smaller, less intimidating form of a lumbering, dumb looking bovine animal had a tendency to offset humans making them let down their guard because they found her to be not so frightening. Therefore, they became easy prey for her to seize their bodies and use them. However, this human was not fooled so easily because he had yet to enter the cell in which they kept her securely locked away.

"Are you afraid of me?" Dezirae inquired, using a mind link connection to speak the words directly into his brain.

The man's eyes opened wide just before he stumbled back from the glass. Dezirae allowed a smile to stretch her big mouth. She snorted through her wide, flat nose before pressing it to the glass.

"Did you - ," he croaked, his eyes still open beyond their normal limits. He cleared his throat and blinked to gather his wits. Straightening his tie that was loose at his open collar, he visibly regrouped before approaching the window again. "Did you just speak to me?"

"I did," she confirmed, her large heading remaining eye level to him. "Do I frighten you?"

"No," he answered aloud. His adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously.

"Liar," she accused, her pulse her racing because his obvious fear excited her. His lackluster denial thoroughly amused her.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"But you already know. Don't you?"

"Tell me what you _really_ want. Tell me what you want from _me_ ," she commanded him.

"Are you really in a position to be giving orders?" His patent egotistical smirk returned to his face.

"More so than you. I don't _need_ you," she reminded him, watching the self-righteous smile evaporate from his face in an instant. Her smile transformed into a freakish grin that bared all of her massive square teeth. Now was as a good time as any to reveal herself to him since she had completely upset his outrageous self-confidence.

There was no smoke or flashes of light or anything fancy when she transformed. Within seconds, without the fanfare and pomp that humans seem to enjoy, Dezirae stood before him as a human-like female. The dark brown hair on head streamed down her torso to her thighs covering her naked body sheathed in caramel colored skin. Her eyes were the same deep, rich hickory color of her hair. The flat, helmet like area that her horns usually formed had shrunk until it was hidden under her hair with only the two ivory ringed ebony colored horns remaining on the sides of her head. The horns tilted down toward her ears that used to be big and floppy but were currently little human ears that folded neatly against her head. The tips of the horns curled slightly at the ends, poking toward the sky. They were the only remaining indicators of her identity as a demon god that resembled a muskox.

The startled man had once again stumbled backwards with shock widened eyes. This time he hit the wall behind him before slowly sliding down to a sitting position the floor.

"Is this what you really look like?" he inquired without getting to his feet. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"This is one of the many forms I can take. I suppose it could be called my genuine form since it is my most often used and preferred appearance," she explained, moving her mouth this time to give voice to her words. She had learned long ago it was far easier to deceive and manipulate humans by looking like them so this had become her favored manifestation. "Why don't you come in here? Come close to me."

"No. I would rather not. Not yet," he responded dubiously.

Dezirae smiled. She knew she was far too entertained by this human's sudden agitation and unease. It thrilled her to see him this way after months of enduring his cockiness and superiority. He had talked to her like a senseless animal, as if she were incapable of rational thought and basic comprehension. He had taken her intelligence level for granted in comparison to her beastly appearance. To him, she had been nothing more than a dumb animal to be tamed and trained. It was as if he sincerely believed her only purpose in life was to be used by him.

"I don't trust you. You have been hiding a part of yourself from me. I realize I was assuming too much," he admitted in an astonishing show of humility.

Not to be deterred, refusing to allow his newly found degree of modesty to sway her, Dezirae folded her arms across her chest and turned her back to him. His profound arrogance in the past could not diminish her deep seated disgust toward him after one, most likely insincere, bout of humbleness.

"Indeed. Never underestimate your opponent. It's the first law of subjugating your enemy, to draw them to your side, you fool," she spat at him with a nasty attitude. She heard his sharp intake of air that betrayed his surprise. Apparently he was not accustomed to people speaking to him in such a frank way. "Do you really think your motivation was so mysterious?" she countered without turning to look at him. "Power, fame, or fortune. All men are motivated by one of those three to some degree. I will admit I have no idea why you chose me specifically as the one with whom you want to make a covenant, but I do know beyond the shadow of a doubt that it has become the one encompassing goal that has overtaken your whole being. That is how you get eaten alive by the very thing you wish to obtain."

"Are you threatening me?" he demanded.

Dezirae turned to see that he had narrowed his eyes at her angrily. His jaw muscles fluttered as if something were alive beneath his skin while he gritted his teeth in rage. She had offended his delicate ego. Good. He had offended her long ago and had continued to do so on a daily basis for quite a lengthy period of time. Moving close to the glass, she pressed her palms to the clear, solid barrier between them. Her eyes held his that possessed the same emotion contained in the eyes of a petulant child who was not getting his way. By her showing him her true form, she had reminded him that he was not as in control of things, especially her, as he had thought.

"I am warning you, human. Cease your assumptions or I will be forced to kill you out of your own willful ignorance," she cautioned him, staring directly into eyes to convey her seriousness.

"Is that any way to speak to the man who will be your master?" he questioned her, one side of his mouth sliding upward into his usual arrogant smirk.

"You will never be my master. Besides, a relationship formed through force is never a lasting one and the ties are easily broken. I should know," she murmured, giving him her back to glower at. She knew far too much about being separated quickly and readily from the humans she had taken by force.

"What do you suggest then?"

"I don't know if I'll ever like you," she admitted, hearing his snort of derision behind her. "However, maybe an understanding, a truce of sorts, can be reached between us. Perhaps I can at least learn to tolerate you."

"Do you really think you are such a prize?"

"You're the one who desires me and my power. Not the other way around. How many times must I remind you?"

Dezirae could almost feel his anger penetrating the glass and sinking into the skin of her back. Knowing she had pierced his icy emotional armor thrilled her. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed toying with humans, especially ones like him. Pivoting her body, she faced him.

"Give me token of trust. Make me believe in you," she said, gazing directly into his eyes. She could practically see him thinking, taking her words into consideration. Then suddenly, without saying a word, he walked away. Disappointment weighed heavily on her, so much that her shoulders slumped forward in a physical display of her letdown. She wanted to be free of this suffocating metal box.

The door to her cell issued a hiss as the mechanical pistons released the lock and slid the metal door aside into the wall. He walked inside the cell and the door whooshed back into place behind him.

Dezirae stayed where she was without moving a muscle. She looked him over from head to toe with open curiosity as he advanced toward her in a slow, self-assured gait. He showed no fear, no hesitation at the moment. Her gaze met his when he came to stand a mere foot away from her.

"Tell me your name," she requested rather brusquely.

"Olga. Olga Breakchild," he answered readily, keeping his eyes leveled on her face.

"Olga," she repeated allowing the sound to roll around in her mouth to get the feel of it. Her eyes roamed over his body again. He was slightly taller than her, thin and lanky. It was impossible to discern his muscle mass under the loose gray uniform he wore. He was wearing black gloves and heavy black boots. The only skin she could see was the triangle on his chest revealed by the the unbuttoned, open collar of his shirt, his neck, and his face. His skin was light in color with a healthy pink hue. Her hand extended to touch him, pausing millimeters from his cheek. When he did not flinch to avoid contact, she pressed her fingertips to his cheek. She stroked the tender, silky flesh thinking about how fragile and easily broken humans could be. Some also exhibited a tremendous amount of strength and willpower. She was not sure about this human at all yet. It was difficult to tell if he would be weak or strong in either the physical, mental, or emotional arenas.

"Can I touch you?" he asked allowing her to continue her tactile exploration as her fingers drifted down his neck.

"Remove your gloves. I want to feel your skin against mine," she confessed. She craved the experience of receiving his touch unimpeded by any physical walls like the leather gloves. Her yearning was so powerful that her body ached, taking her by surprise. When his fingers, contacted her cheek, she sighed. She noted the blush that darkened the tops of his cheekbones under his eyes.

"You like the touch humans?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

"Yes," she answered succinctly as his fingers moved into her hair. "Imagine what it would be like to exist decades without experiencing a single touch. When you do finally have contact with someone, it's harsh and agonizing. They inflict pain. They hurt you. They want to kill you."

"Oh," he breathed, moving closer to her.

Dezirae could feel the reluctance in the stiffness of his body when he slid his arm around her shoulders. She could not blame him for not trusting her. Somehow they would have to earn each others trust.

"Why do you want me to be your Covenanter?" Her eyelids lowered as his thumb meandered across her jaw. A gasp inadvertently passed her lips when the pad of his thumb pressed against the middle of her lower lip. He was so gentle. She withheld the moan desperate to escape her as his thumb glided across her bottom lip. Although a demon god, she shared many of the same wants and needs as humans. Maybe that was one of the reasons she disliked them so much. She craved contact with the humans, wanting their touch.

"Because you are definitely a different kind of Foreigner. You can discern a person's secrets. You learn their strengths and weaknesses. You're willing to exploit them to get what you want. You and I have a lot in common. I want you to be mine," he whispered, drawing her close.

Dezirae shivered as the goosebumps raised to the surface of her neck, created in the wake of his warm breath washing over her skin. The flattery was unnecessary. He had captured her attention with his tender touch. Her resolve had weakened under the tips of his gently stroking fingers that tickled her neck. Allowing herself to pretend to be human, to fully experience her emotions and desires, was not something she often indulged in. Her hand slipped around to the back of his neck to pull his head down so that his lips would be accessible. With his lips close to hers, so close the sensitive skin of her lips tingled with anticipation of his kiss, she held him in suspense as she spoke.

"It is clear to me that you want me. The tricky part of this union, my dear, is that you have to make me want you," she whispered, before ruthlessly shoving him away. She laughed as he faltered, waving his arms in the air like a bird attempting to take flight, to right himself before he fell onto his skinny ass.

"Bitch," he muttered, straightening his rumpled uniform while trying to sort through his tangled emotions.

Dezirae laughed again as he exited her cell. He was frustrated and angry. Did he really think she would allow him to enslave her so easily? Silly, silly man.


	2. Chapter 2

Dezirae lifted her head when she heard the door to her prison cell open. Although she was not happy to see him, he was back. The one called Olga Breakchild walked toward her holding something in his hands. A pile of gray cloth with turquoise accents and a shiny red apple. Gifts? How sweet. He brought offerings to the goddess to whom he wanted to possess. At least he had taken her advice that he needed to persuade her to like him. Her mouth involuntarily salivated upon seeing the shiny, pretty apple. She loved apples.

Dezirae sat up on her metal cot where she had been dozing. There was not much to do but sleep or complain about being held prisoner. She left the complaining to the other captured Foreigners. Her hair swayed as she moved, uncovering her breasts. She smiled in amusement as a dark pink blush colored his light face and neck, disappearing under the clothes he was wearing.

"Here," he said, thrusting the drab gray cloth at her. "Put this on."

Dezirae raised an eyebrow questioningly at him. He needed to learn that she did not take orders, but she might acquiesce to a polite request. She did not bother to cover herself up either, and his eyes moved from hers back down to her breasts. His blush deepened until she wondered if any blood was getting to his heart or brain because it was all being directed elsewhere in his body. Her eyes followed his hand that set the apple down on the table. She was far more interested in the food than the clothing.

"Please, put this on," he requested, shaking out the neatly folded bundle. "You must be cold."

She was not cold. She stared at the dress he held in his hands. A traditional Chinese cheongsam with a square Mandarin collar. The dress would reach her ankles but the sides of the skirt were slit open up to her thighs. Delicate silk piping in the same bright blue green color that accented his uniform added a bit of color to boring gray dress. She did not like wearing clothes, but she found the dress to actually be pretty. Clothing was a human convention she had never cared for, yet she did understand the necessity of wearing them. After tentatively taking the dress from him, she pulled it over her head. She heard an audible sigh of relief from him once she was covered.

"I brought this for you as well," Olga said, holding out a length of turquoise ribbon.

"What's that for?" she asked, recoiling from the strip of material as if it might bite her.

"It's for your hair. Let me show you," he muttered impatiently. He stepped closer to her, bringing his face within inches of hers as he reached around her. He thrust his fingers into her hair, gathering her locks into one big, low hanging ponytail at the nape of her neck.

Dezirae closed her eyes as he continued to comb his fingers through her hair in an effort to rid it of snarls and to catch any stray tendrils that stubbornly freed themselves from his hand. She rested her hands on his hips, enjoying the closeness of his body. His scent tickled her nose, filling her nostrils. He smelled delightful, like a blend of cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves. She opened her eyes to see that he was staring at her face as his fingers worked to tie the bow around the ponytail.

"There. All fixed," he murmured, still stroking her hair. "Your hair is quite lovely. Thick. Lustrous." His thumb rested on her chin before sliding across her jawline to her ear while his eyes moved over her face. "So beautiful."

"And to think you called me an ugly ox," she teased him, giving him a lopsided grin.

"I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered as if it physically pained him to say the words.

"You're not accustomed to doing that are you?" she questioned him, pressing her hands more firmly against his slim hips. When his blond eyebrows drew together in confusion she added, "Apologizing. You don't like to admit when you're wrong, do you?"

"No," he answered plainly. "Because I'm hardly ever wrong."

Dezirae sighed with the smallest degree of annoyed amusement. Just when she thought they were having a sincere moment, when he had let down his guard just a little, he has to say something like that.

"Let's go," Olga announced gruffly, backing away from her. "Follow me."

Dezirae picked up the apple from the table, taking a big bite. There was no way she was going to leave the prize she wanted behind. The sweet juice filled her mouth and ran down her throat. She moaned in appreciation. It had been a while since she had tasted something so delicious.

"Do you want to get out of here or not?" he demanded, interrupting her nearly orgasmic bliss from the eating the tasty fruit.

His offensive personality almost made staying in her cell a pleasant choice in comparison to being with him. He could be so kind one minute to turn into a monster the next. And to think this human had called her a brainless beast.

"Fine," he growled, turning his back on her to leave the room.

"Wait!" she exclaimed when he raised his hand to push the button to close the door behind him. She could not bear the thought of being locked in for many more months when the option of seeing the sun and feeling the grass under feet was within her grasp. Pushing down her pride, she swallowed the mouthful of half chewed apple. She nearly choked on both. "I'm coming with you."

"These are yours too," he informed her, pointing to the pair of plain, flat soled black shoes sitting on the floor outside the door of her cell.

Dezirae grimaced in disapproval. She hated shoes. Instead of arguing with him about it, she stepped into the black leather vices that would pinch her toes and possibly rub a blister on the back of her heel. The outside world, and a small modicum of freedom, awaited her. She was positive that this was just another part of his extensive scheme to win her over. The terrible part was that it was working. He seemed to understand what to do to sway her heart. She sighed dejectedly. She had in fact asked for this, demanding that he win her over as if he were a prospective lover not a Logicalist who wanted to use her. She stared at his back as he walked ahead of her, swaggering about as if he was a god himself.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, following him down the vacuous metal corridor. Their footsteps bounced off the walls and back to their ears. The sound was thankfully muted due to the rubber soles of their shoes.

"What does it matter? You want to go outside don't you?" He suddenly whipped around, pushing her against the wall. "I will gladly take you back to your cell if you are so skeptical of my intentions."

Dezirae inhaled a deep breath in response to his words. She raised her chin defiantly giving him a stubborn stare as he glowered down at her.

"I don't think you understand the sacrifice I am making for you," he snarled at her through his teeth, his eyes blazing like molten gold. "You must not try to escape. If I take you out of here and you escape, they will kill me - literally. I will be given the death sentence as a punishment for allowing a dangerous prisoner to be unleashed back into the world," he explained to her, his livid eyes boring into her brown irises as if to implant the gravity of his words into her brain. "I'm trusting you with my life at the moment by taking you outside. Is my trust misplaced?"

Her breathing became shallow when he lowered his face to hers until the tips of their noses touched. The contact was almost imperceptible, but it made her pulse race. Making a connection with him, no matter small, excited her. How ridiculous. Her body was only reacting to the possibility that she might lose her chance to inhale the fresh air once again while feeling it brushing across her skin. She was sick onto death of the four cold, shiny silver steel walls that surrounded her and the stale, recycled air pumped in by the circulation system.

Dezirae gulped as she stared into his penetrating golden eyes. He wanted to trust her and needed her to trust him. Would they really kill him? Fear, subtle and lurking beneath the anger in his eyes, confirmed that if she escaped he would indeed lose his life. As much as he annoyed her, he was taking a major gamble with his life to do something to please her. The least she could do would be to honor his sacrifice and stay with him. Maybe...just maybe...this human was not as awful as he pretended to be.

"Think of it as a way to establish a mutual degree of respect that will enable us to trust one another," he explained, placing his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head as if to trap her in another type of prison. "I want you to be my Covenanter."

"Yes, I'm aware," she returned coldly despite feeling extremely warm inside. Being close to him did strange things to her body. Although the sensations were not entirely unpleasant, they were not exactly welcome either. The rapid heartbeat and the flushes of heat that invaded her body were mere physical manifestations of a hormonal response she told herself. Despite his repugnant personality, he was handsome and virile. Her body was simply acting in reflex to him being a comely, vigorous creature even he was a mere human.

"Give me your word, a promise, that you won't try to make a break for it," he said, holding her gaze to convey his earnestness. "If you to try escape, I will kill you."

"You're not strong enough," she countered, gritting her teeth to restrain herself from slapping him.

"I'm not," he admitted. "But my comrades are. They are the ones who took you down in the first place. They won't capture you a second time. They will kill you."

"Don't threaten me," she growled at him. "You can't demand trust. You have to earn it."

"That's right," he agreed wholeheartedly, leaning closer to her. "So let's begin, shall we? Promise me."

"I promise not to run away from you," she swore, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dezirae tilted her chin the few millimeters required to brush her lips across his. A spark, like a mild electrical shock, passed between their lips causing him to jump back from her. She could not move because of the wall behind her. Her fingers pressed to her lips that tingled from the short, sharp sting that had occurred. Their promise had been sealed with a kiss and what a kiss it had been.

"What was that?" she asked, watching his face shift into a mask of narcissism.

"Electrostatic discharge. A simple case of an imbalance of positive and negative charges of the electrons in the air around us. Nothing more," he stated haughtily, brushing off the whole matter as a minor scientific principle of electricity.

Maybe so, but the literal spark between them had been unexpected and exciting. Dezirae gasped when he took her hand. His touch was tender and affectionate as he held her fingers lightly in his smooth palmed hand. Just minutes earlier he had been so menacing, warning her that he would cause her bodily harm if she tried to run away from him.

"Let's go," he prompted her, pulling her along behind him.

Dezirae allowed herself to be dragged by him because he was leading her to the outside world, a place beyond her prison. Her fingers tightened around his hand as they approached the door. The sensation that was becoming familiar, the rush of heat and wildly beating heart, overtook her when he pressed the button to slide the door aside. She cried out with joy when the mild breeze grazed her cheeks, bringing to mind when his fingers had stroked them. Both sensations were like a sweet caress from a tender lover. Letting go of his hand, she ran out of the building to experience more of the world she had missed so dearly.

Dezirae didn't hate Septpia. This world was actually quite beautiful to her, and she had come to think of it as a second home before her imprisonment. It was many of the humans who had a tendency to ruin the whole thing for her. They wanted to kill what they feared, never trying to understand beings different from them. Survival, the desire for self-preservation, had been what had driven her to take possession of them and attack others. Glancing back at the man who had granted her this small freedom, she considered that same base desire might be what drove him to do the things he did. Admitting that he was a craven man who wanted nothing more than to live to see another day would be more humiliating than acting like a conceited, power hungry asshole. She spun around in a circle enjoying the elation of being in the open air.

The sky was the most gorgeous shade of blue without a single cloud to mar its cerulean expanse that extended beyond her sight and imagination. The grass seemed brighter and greener than in her recollections. Kicking off her shoes, she ran across the short length of sidewalk to step into the cushy shoots of grass. She laughed and skipped about, relishing the feeling of the softness under her feet. It felt so good. For the first time in several months, she felt good and alive, like life was worth living again. Looking all around her, she saw that there were so many fabulous things in nature she wanted to be reacquainted with. There were colorful flowers of all types to sniff, and there were trees to climb. There was also a fantastic decorative fountain in the courtyard in which to splash. It was not a natural waterfall or a stream winding through a forest, but it would do nicely. Although this was a man made environment, designed and built to specifications and perfect beyond the bounds of a wonderfully imperfect place occurring on its own, she loved it. Breaking into a run, she had to experience it all.

When she was finally spent and looking for a place to sit down, Dezirae found Olga sitting under one of the trees. He appeared to be dozing off. Apparently he had grown bored while waiting for her to tire herself out. She knelt down beside him, a smile gracing her lips as she studied the sleeping man. He had allowed her to roam free and to heart's content. For that, she was grateful to him. She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. His skin was smooth under her lips.

"What was that for?" he asked, opening his eyes when she sat back on her heels.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she answered, her smile broadening.

"Are you thirsty?" He reached into the picnic basket sitting beside him and withdrew a silver bottle to hand it to her.

"Oh, thank you," she panted happily, taking the container from him. She was parched after all of that running around and giggling like a mad woman who had been set free. Water, clean and cold, flowed into her mouth, and she drank heartily. Some of the fluid trickled out of the side of her mouth and down her chin, running down her neck and wetting the front of her dress. Once her thirst was sated, she eyed the basket curiously. Her tummy growled as if to ask the question rolling around in her head.

"Yukari brought us some food. I would have introduced you to her, but you were too busy having fun. You'll have plenty of time to meet the others. As a matter of fact, we will probably begin training tomorrow and you will meet them then." He handed her a sandwich from the basket.

"Training? What kind of training?" she inquired, ripping the waxed paper away from sandwich. She took a big bite while waiting for him to explain.

"Training to learn to Trance, to become one," he answered, taking another sandwich out of the basket for her since she was almost done with first one.

"To become one," she repeated, fascinated by the idea. "What does that mean?"

"It will be easier to show you when we get there than to try to explain it at the moment. But basically we will sync our minds and bodies, becoming weapon and wielder. We will work as one, sharing one mind and working toward the same goal."

Dezirae stayed silent mulling his words over in her mind while chewing her food. The concept intrigued her. In the past, when merging with a human, she had attempted to achieve true unity but the connection had failed time and time again. The human always resisted and blocked a complete unification. Tragically, she often killed the person she was trying so desperately to hang onto. Her eyes moved to the man sitting in front of her. Although his demanding personality infuriated her and his conceit annoyed her, she did not want to kill him - at least not at the moment. As a matter of fact, for the time being, she found his company to be quite pleasant. Soon, this would be over and she would be forced to return to her prison cell.

"When do I have to go back?" she inquired sadly, dreading hearing his answer.

"You won't be going back to your cell," he replied, reaching into the basket for an apple.

"I won't? Where will I be going?" She blinked at him, ignoring the apple he held out to her. She wanted an answer first.

"My room. You will live with me, eat with me...be with me all of the time. You will no longer be alone," he informed her, giving her a charming smile. "You will be my Covenanter, not a prisoner."

"Oh," she murmured in surprise, taking the apple from him. For quite a long time now she had been alone. "You have no qualms about placing so much trust in me so quickly?"

"I will confess that I am hoping by placing my full trust in you up front without holding you under suspicion that you will do the same for me. I know the probability of you turning on me is insanely high. Higher than the possibility of you trusting me so fully and foolishly like I have you. I know I am gambling, working against the odds. But I want you to accept me as your partner quickly," he stated forthrightly.

"Why are you so desperate to form this bond, this Covenant, with me?"

Olga sighed heavily, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the tree behind him. "Because I need you to make me better. I have been called an average Logicalist at best. Perhaps that's why I've had such a problem finding someone."

"You're incredibly self-centered. You also have an abrasive personality. That is why you haven't been able to find a Foreigner to make a Covenant with you," she corrected him brusquely. She could feel the heat of his anger when his eyes opened and fixed themselves on her. Finally, she understood the reason for his desperate search.

"Tell me how you really feel. Don't be shy," he snapped in return, glaring at her.

"Honesty is a part of establishing trust, correct?"

"I suppose it is."

"And you're being honest with me so I thought I should be honest with you." She studied his eyes as he appeared to sink into deep thought and momentarily forget she existed. She believed that for the first time, possibly ever, he was being honest with himself about a lot of things. The fact that he had let down his guard and admitted something negative about himself had not been lost on her. Being called average could not be deemed a self-esteem builder. His mask of bravado was nothing but a mask to cover up the wounds caused by the damaging words spoken to him by other people.

"I want to be the golden boy. I want to be a big time hero like Yoshichika," Olga mumbled as if talking to himself. His hand raised and his fingers curled into a fist while his facial muscles tightened with determination. "No. I want to be better than him."

Dezirae sighed, rolling her eyes in agitation. "At least you have a goal. But why is it so important to you to be superior? To grasp at the fleeting concept of control over others?"

After gaping at her for quite a lengthy amount of time, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think I'm staying here because I fear you or because you have established some hold on me?" she demanded, standing to her feet. She noticed he leaned forward placing his hands on the ground in front of him as if to spring to his feet at any second. Turning to her right, she pointed at the wide open gate of the facility that led to the big wide world beyond and her absolute freedom. "I could walk right out of those gates, and you would be powerless to stop me."

"Don't you think I know that?!" he exclaimed, raising his voice in anger.

Dezirae had an innate ability to press all of the right buttons, or wrong ones depending on how one looked at it, to elicit a strong emotional response from him. There were certain truths he needed to face to become the Logicalist he aspired to be otherwise he would continue to remain painfully average. The only thing preventing him from reaching a higher potential was himself. Yet he was too damn conceited to realize it.

Dezirae backed away when he suddenly jumped to his feet in front of her. She grabbed him by the throat pushing him against the tree behind him. Her eyes fastened themselves to his pale face that started to turn red due to his lack of oxygen. Loosening her grip to allow him to inhale the air his lungs desperately craved, she continued to hold him firmly to the trunk of the tree.

"What is the probability I'll kill you?" she demanded, inclining her head toward his.

"I'd say fifty percent. I believe you want to kill me," Olga answered, his eyes obstinately meeting hers. "But the emotions in your eyes tell me that you won't. However, rationality could always trump those emotions. You're too unpredictable for me to say with certainty."

"Hmmmm," she hummed pensively, taking her hand away from his throat. "You're smarter than you give yourself credit for being. You read my emotions very well. That's important to a good partnership. Is that why you trusted me to roam free without running?"

"Like I explained to you earlier, it was a leap of faith. I was hoping it would pay off by establishing a foundation on which to base your trust in me."

"I suppose this is sort of a crash course in bonding. We don't have the luxury of time when new threats attack the city every day."

"Kiss me," he requested, reaching out to pull her into his arms. "Kiss me to promise yourself to me."

"Again?" she asked with a triumphant smirk on her lips. She pressed her body into his, sliding her fingers through his silky soft hair.

"Again," he murmured, his eyelids lowering to shroud his amber irises from her.

Dezirae fitted her lips to his, merely laying her mouth to his at first. When he moved his head as if to pull away, her palms pressed to his cheeks to hold his lips in place. Her lips brushed across his lifting briefly before pressing back down with sincerity and passion. Something made her want to bond with him. Perhaps it was his insecurity hidden under layers of fragile bravado that she found endearing. Or maybe it was the brief moments when he let down his guard and allowed her to see the real him that had drawn her to him. She continued to kiss him ardently, feeling his body tremble against her. Discovering herself melting into him frightened her, but she allowed it to happen. A flow of energy from her body to his was like warm water rushing through her veins and exiting every pore of her skin. Then the tide of power shifted when he parted his lips slightly, pressing his mouth back to hers. Allowing his emotions to merge with the stream of energy he pushed into her created a heady mixture that made her feel dizzy and drunk from the intensity of his vitality that poured into her. Her hands moved down to the lapels of his jacket, her fingers clutching the material to hang on to him for she feared she might float away because her body felt so light yet electrified with his very spirit. His hand touched the small of her back to pull her closer, setting off a spark that shot through her body like a lightning bolt that sizzled every nerve ending as the power surge raced along them.

A sound, a low, pitiful keening caught her attention. It reminded her of a mourning beast, a pathetic creature crying out as if it was enduring great pain - or experiencing tremendous pleasure. In a disturbing moment of clarity, Dezirae realized the sound was coming from her. Her consciousness was disintegrating and streaming into him like rainwater trickles into a stream. She might disappear entirely if she allowed any more of herself to go into him. Terror gripped her heart, instantly making her grow cold.

"STOP!" she cried out after ripping her mouth from his.

Both of them fell to the ground, weak and panting. Their bodies were heavy as lead and as difficult to move. It was like they had suddenly been dropped from a tremendous height without anything to lessen the harshness of the impact with the ground. Their bodies burned like they had been set on fire yet no flames had actually touched them. Unwittingly, they had just begun to breach the true intensity of what it was like to become one with another. That small taste of a Trance was blissful and frightening all at once.

Dezirae stared at the incredibly blue sky above her as she attempted to fathom exactly what had just taken place. It had never felt that way when she had merged with a human by force. She had been in complete control the whole time. Since the human had been fighting her, there remained a wall, a barrier, that inhibited a complete bonding, of creating a singular creature of the same mindset and emotions that tumbled together to fall into flawless unity. _To become one_. Suddenly, she had a better understanding of what Olga was trying to explain to her earlier.

"Was that as scary for you as it was for me?" Olga panted, reaching out to touch her hand.

Dezirae jumped as if the innocent contact had jolted her with a high voltage of electricity. Instantly, she was ascending toward the sky without moving as if a part of her would float away on the breeze like a helium balloon. Was this the kind of connection she had been searching for all along? Her palm turned upward so he could hold her hand, anchoring her to this earth and to him.

"I've never been so frightened in all of my life," she confessed, gripping his hand which held hers in a way that gave her the impression he never wanted to let her go.

"Good. At least we feel the same way."


	3. Chapter 3

Dezirae glanced around the room as she followed him inside. There were two twin beds positioned across from each other, one against each wall. There was also a desk with a chair, a dresser, and chest of drawers. The furnishings were plain and few but she found the room cozy. It was a lot better than the sterile steel prison cell she was accustomed to being in.

"That's your bed," Olga informed her, pointing to the bed on the right.

Dezirae sat down on the multi-colored quilt that had been pieced together from squares of cloth and sewn together. Her fingers glided over the colorful squares while she studied the intricate stitching. Most of the stitches were symmetrical as if made by a machine, but a few were crooked as if they had been made by a slightly unsteady hand.

"Someone made this?" she questioned him, glimpsing at him. He was digging through one of the drawers in the chest of drawers.

"My grandmother," he replied, pulling out a set of pajamas.

"She loved you very much," she murmured, gazing at the quilt longingly.

"She did."

Dezirae could feel his eyes on her. "What?"

"What do you know about love?"

"Not much. I'm more acquainted with the cruel side of humans, truth be told."

She had observed humans for a very long time, noting the ways in which they expressed their feelings for each other. The positive, tender emotions she encountered captivated her. Joy, serenity, gratitude, amusement, hope, and love. She wanted to experience them too as humans did and had to some to degree in her life on Septpia. Olga had given her the gift of them all so far except for the most elusive and rare - love. His one simple act of kindness, an experiment in trust as he had called it, had filled her with such elation, stirring within her an array of thrilling and happy emotions.

"Here. You can wear this tonight. I forgot to requisition sleepwear for you," he explained, handing her to the white silk top to his set of pajamas.

"Thank you," she responded, taking the top. She would prefer to be naked, but she would not argue with him.

"You can take a bath in there." He pointed to the door on the wall across from them. There was another door to the left.

"What does that door lead to?"

"The closet. That's where you will find your uniforms."

"Oh." Dezirae stood up, walking into the white tiled bathroom. Everything was white, so much white it blinded her. It was like being back in her cell. She closed the door but did not lock it. Peeling the sweaty clothes from her body, she allowed them to drop in a haphazard pile on the floor. She removed the handheld shower head from the peg on the wall while turning on the water. Not paying attention to which direction in which the head was pointing, she screamed when the freezing cold water doused her. Her hand hit the handle, turning the water back off while she stood trembling and wet.

"Are you okay in there?" Olga called from the other side of the door.

"I'm fine!" she responded, unable to restrain the embarrassed laughter bubbling up in her throat.

This time she pointed the shower head down toward the drain when she turned the water on. She tested the water after several seconds. Although it was still lukewarm, she directed the spray onto her body to warm up her skin so she could stop shivering. Soon the water was hot, filling the small room with billows of steam. Showers were one of her favorite human things. She envied humans so much. Their subsequent rejection and fear of her had resulted in turning her jealousy into unrelenting hatred. Thinking of Olga, picturing his shining golden eyes in her head and recalling the sensation of his silky blond hair on her fingertips, filled her with an inexplicable warmth that she found to be exceedingly disconcerting. A tentative knock on the door shattered her reverie, extinguishing the heat inside of her.

"Do you need any help?" Olga inquired.

A lopsided smile turned Dezirae's lips. She was not sure if he was being an undercover pervert or was genuinely concerned about her well being thinking maybe she had slipped or somehow hurt herself because she had been in here for so long. She had not even attempted to wash her body or hair yet since she had been lost in her musings while savoring the massaging tempo of the water beating against her muscles. Her body had received a much needed physical work out today from the running and climbing and constant motion after being dormant in jail for such a long time.

"I hate to ask, but...," she hesitated, chewing her bottom lip nervously. Her hair was so lengthy, almost to her knees, that it would be quite a task to wash by herself. "Can you help me wash my hair?"

"O-okay," he stammered. "J-just a m-minute."

 _He's embarrassed and nervous. How adorable,_ she thought to herself. After a few minutes passed while she was scrubbing her body with a washcloth and soap, she became convinced he had changed his mind and was leaving her to struggle through washing her hair by herself. Standing under the spray of water, allowing it to soak through her locks and rinse the soap from her body, she heard the door open behind her. Her eyes opened to see him standing in front of her wearing a pair of black shorts, swimming trunks to be more specific. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he stood with his arms held stiffly at his sides. Just as she thought, he was lean, almost too thin, with no defined muscle but long smooth muscles like those of a gymnast or swimmer instead. A great deal of muscle mass would look out of a place on a gangly body like his, but he was still quite strong. Strong enough to handle her physically to some degree. She contemplated if he would be strong enough to take her on mentally and emotionally. That remained to be seen. She had tested him a little, pushing his boundaries and limits only slightly.

"Open your eyes," she ordered him impatiently.

"No. I can't," he responded, extending his arms out in front of him. "Where are you? Talk to me so I can come to you."

"Here. I'll help you," she offered, reaching out to take him by the wrist. She pulled him forward, turning her back to him. "You can open your eyes now. My back is turned."

"Can you hand me the shampoo bottle?" he requested.

Dezirae picked up the bottle, handing it behind her. She could hear the squeak of the pump being pushed down as he squirted the liquid that smelled like apples into his hand. Staying still, staring at the tiny square white tiles on the wall in front of her, she counted them until his hands pushed into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp as he worked the soap into a white foam. She sighed when his hands withdrew from her hair.

"This is most likely going to take the whole bottle of shampoo. You have a lot of hair," he mumbled, thrusting his hands back into her hair.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," she whispered in appreciation as he continued to work the bubbles through her hair.

The sweet scent of apples filled the air, making her feel light headed. The tiles in front of her suddenly skewed, their shapes becoming uneven and asymmetrical. Dezirae closed her eyes and leaned forward to press her forehead against the wall as bursts of white light appeared in her vision.

"Are you all right?" he asked, pressing his hand against her shoulder.

"Just a little dizzy. I'll be fine," she assured him. "Today was quite a day. Maybe I had a little too much excitement."

"You might be hungry," he suggested, reaching forward to lift the shower head from the holder on the wall above her head.

Dezirae moaned lightly when his bare skin contacted the exposed skin of her back not covered by her soapy hair. She heard his sudden sharp intake of air which made that sensation of heat crawl back into the lower part of her belly.

"Sorry," he apologized breathily, turning the shower head straight on her head to wash away the shampoo.

"I like it when you touch me," she murmured, pressing her palms flat against the wall to hold herself up.

"Wh-what?" he asked, obviously startled by her statement.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that out loud."

"It's okay. I like touching you," he confessed, stroking his fingers through her hair. Unexpectedly his forefinger got caught in a snarl of her thick locks, and he pulled without thinking to free his trapped digit.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, wrenching her body away from him. Every muscle in her body automatically tensed from head to toe. She was ready to spring, to attack, as she whirled around to face him. Oh, yes, she had momentarily forgotten in the tender moment that humans liked to hurt her.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" he cried out when her murderous gaze fixed itself on his face.

She knew it had been an accident, completely unintentional. Closing her eyes, inhaling deeply, she calmed herself. She would have to stop being so reactionary, particularly when a violent reaction was not warranted. Many years of conditioning, of being exposed to hurtful gestures and pain delivered by human hands would have to be overcome.

"It's okay," she rejoined, turning her back to him so he could finish washing away the shampoo. "You really couldn't help it. My hair is a mess. Maybe I should cut it."

"No!" he yelled a little too aggressively. "No," he repeated in a lower, calmer voice. "I like it. It's beautiful."

He was so gentle, so kind. By the way he had talked to her for months on end, she had presumed he would be a harsh taskmaster. She had remained reticent, ignoring his didactic rants and remained reluctant to reveal her true appearance to him fearing that he would treat her with violence and cruelty. He had been a bit hostile toward her, however, she chalked it up to his need to assert his dominance to keep her in check. She was, after all, a horrid beast Foreigner who had Trancejacked so called innocent people and attacked him and friends with the intent of killing them all. She could not blame him for doing something in an attempt to keep her in check to preserve his life and that of the others.

"Olga...do you think - "

"There," he cut her off, replacing the shower head and turning off the water. This time he took extra precautions not to touch her by stepping to the side but kept his face averted so that he would not see her naked body. He snatched a towel from one of the hooks, wrapping it around his waist. "I'll be outside getting dressed. You dry off and dress in here."

Should she say 'yes, sir' in response? She would not. She stubbornly refused. She had allowed him past her defenses, both emotional and physical, but a line had to be drawn somewhere and this was as good a place as any. Staying silent, she waited for him to close the door behind him before she moved. There was too much steam and moisture in here for her to be able to dry off properly so she opened the window over the tub. She could not wait to take a bath but tonight she was too tired.

Folding her arms on the windowsill, Dezirae propped her chin on her forearm as she stared outside. Tall, black iron light poles were placed at intervals along the sidewalks that criss-crossed the expansive property of the ALCA, Another Logic Counter Agency. The light created white pools of light on the gray cement sidewalks. Suddenly two people appeared in one of the circles of light. It looked as if Heaven itself were shining down light upon them. One person was a male human with short black hair wearing a uniform that was like the one Olga had worn. The other was a female goddess with waist length blond hair wearing a feminine uniform of a long sleeved jacket over a white shirt with a ruffle at the neck and a skirt that reminded her of mythical mermaid's tail. A logicalist and his partner. They were gorgeous. And they were more than _just_ a team. They were lovers. She watched like a shameless voyeur as the male gathered the goddess into his arms and kissed her with intimate affection on the lips. Her fingers went to her lips that tingled as she recalled the kiss she and Olga had shared earlier. He was not her lover, but through that kiss she had pledged herself to him and he to her in return. They had made a contract. Logicalist and Covenanter. Would they be like those two some day? Her lips stretched into a sad, thin line instead of a smile. Most likely not. She feared she wanted it too much for it to ever come to pass. She had accidentally killed several men during a Trancejack by pushing too hard, by forcing them beyond their fragile limits. It hurt her heart to think of doing the same to Olga. Besides, she was no lovely, feminine goddess, gentle and virtuous. She was a beast god. A damned ugly ox and hideous to the core.

When the two people broke their lover's embrace, abandoning the kiss, they held hands and continued on to wherever they had been going.

Dezirae closed the frosted window since the steam had been allowed to escape. She dried off and put on the pajama top before walking back out into the bedroom while patting her hair dry with another towel. The aroma of fresh fruit, watermelon and grapes, mingled with the scent of bread and meat to fill her nose. Her mouth watered in response. She was hungry but had no real desire to eat.

"I brought you some food," Olga announced without needing to. "I thought you might be hungry."

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, glancing at the man lying in his bed. Her stomach quickly proved her to be a liar by issuing a deep rumble in protest.

"You should eat. You will need your strength for training tomorrow." Olga was lying in his bed. The quilt that matched the one on her bed was pulled up to his chin covering his chest, making him look as if he was not wearing anything since his shoulders and arms were bare. His hands were folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling without saying another word.

Dezirae sat down at the desk, poking at the grapes on the plate as if they would jump up and bite her. Her appetite had deserted her. Eating the food anyway, she did not want to insult his show of thoughtfulness. He had gone to retrieve the food unprompted, and she would need her strength for the next day. She would once again face the ones who would have killed her had they not been able to subjugate her and to separate her from the human so they could bring her under control. The man had died soon after the separation yet they had not punished her for it except to lock her in a cold metal cell. She had deserved far worse. But the dark haired young man, the one she had seen on the sidewalk with his goddess and lover, had been the one who had convinced them not to kill her.

"Olga, what is the name of the man who would not let the others kill me?" she inquired as nonchalantly as possible.

"Yoshichika Tsurugi."

Dezirae almost choked on the piece of meat she prematurely swallowed. Olga's rival! She beat on her chest to make the chunk of half chewed beef continue down her gullet. How ironic. Both men had started as enemies of hers and were adversaries of each other yet each one had saved her in his own way.

"Don't eat so fast," he admonished her without moving from the bed.

"I suppose I'm hungrier than I thought." She absentmindedly picked up a piece of the watermelon to place it in her mouth. The texture was soft yet slightly crunchy with a sugary sweet taste. "So good."

"You really like food don't you?"

"I do. I like a lot of human things."

"Such as..." Olga prompted her.

"Such as...," she began, standing up from the chair. She held the bunch of grapes in her hand, popping them into her mouth and pacing the room as she listed the myriad of things she liked about the human world. There was no rhyme or reason to the list. She simply spouted out the words as they came to her mind. "I like watermelon and kittens. Sunsets and warm blankets. The scent of fresh baked bread. The feeling of the silky petals of a rose."

Olga turned onto his side, watching her as she aimlessly strolled back and forth while she uttered the most random list of items he had ever heard.

"What?" Dezirae questioned him when she noticed the way he was looking at her. There was a hint of a smile on his face and his eyes of liquid gold were attached to her face.

"Nothing. I'm just...I'm just surprised by you. You're not what I expected," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose I could say the same thing about you," she retorted with a mild amount of acid in her tone.

"It's not a bad thing, Dezirae."

Her mouth dropped open. That was the first time he had spoken her name since she had told him what it was.

"What?" His lip curled back from his teeth as if he was disgusted.

Dezirae was instantly reminded of the less than favorable first impression he had made on her with that expression of apparent displeasure. This time she shrugged her shoulders to physically disregard his reaction.

"That's the first time you've called me by my name. That's all. I didn't expect to like the sound of it coming out of your mouth," she explained, turning her back on him.

She distracted herself by going to the window. There was no one outside now. Nothing moved, not even a nocturnal creature out for a nightly adventure. The lights suddenly went out, engulfing the grounds in darkness. She could see the stars that twinkled by the millions in the night sky above. Sometimes she longed to go back to Tetraheaven, to return home. Tonight was one of those nights. Loneliness swamped her with such unexpected and unwanted potency that tears seared the backs of her eyeballs and her heart ached in her chest.

"Olga?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are Yoshichika and his Covenanter lovers?"

"I don't know. It's none of my business."

Dezirae could tell that he knew by the distinct tone of annoyance in his voice. That also confirmed what she was already pretty sure of regarding the status of their relationship. Like her, he was jealous too.

"Are you a lonely person?" Without waiting for him to respond, she went on talking to clarify her question. "You are always sad, angry. Although you have these people, these comrades whom you refer to as friends, I believe that you feel you really don't belong with them. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. You cannot not hide the sadness. You try valiantly but don't succeed. Even when with them, you feel alone like no one understands you or accepts you. Your heart is constantly breaking. Even now."

Deizirae held her breath as she heard him inhale a long, shaky sigh. Perhaps she had said too much and overstepped her boundaries. After all, they had just started to get to know one another on a completely different level.

"You're quite intuitive and extremely empathetic," he said, his voice low but even. "I'm sure the reason you know that and can understand me so clearly is because you're the same as me. Am I right?"

"You are correct," she admitted, loathe to confirm that they were indeed of the same mind and emotions.

"I think we will make great partners. I'm more sure than ever that you were destined to be my Covenanter."

Dezirae slowly turned on her heel, approaching his bed. Her eyes met his when he rolled onto his back to look up at her. Getting onto the bed, straddling his body while she hovered over him on all fours. Her hair swung forward, creating a curtain that surrounded him as the ends of her hair curled around his head on his pillow and onto his chest that lay bare because the cover had fallen to his waist. Her lips parted for her to speak when his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

"Do you think - " She stopped talking when his thumb moved over her bottom lip while his eyes continued to bore into hers as if he were trying to read the unspoken words imprinted on her soul. "Do you think we could be lovers?"

"We should establish a firm covenant first, making an unbreakable partnership between the two of us. One thing at a time," he murmured, stroking her cheek tenderly. "Go to bed."

"Will you stop ordering me around as if I were a helpless child?" she snapped, getting off of his bed to go to her own.

"As your master, I will command you as much as I like," he said. Upon seeing her whirling around with a lethal glint in her eye, he continued speaking rapidly. "As your master, it is my duty to take care of you. That means your well being, physical, mental, and emotional, are my responsibility. To be fair to you, to be a good caretaker, I must look after what is in your best interests...despite how I feel at the moment."

Dezirae allowed the rage and offense to subside from her eyes and leak from her tense body. He felt the same way she did about many things including wanting to be closer and forming a deeper bond. They both knew it was too soon and there were other matters that needed to be attended to in order to build a solid foundation for making a long lasting relationship beyond the ability to Trance and fight as one.

"Good night, Dezirae," he said with finality, signaling in a polite manner that the conversation was over. He reached over to switch off the small lamp on the nightstand that separated the beds.

"Good night, Olga."


	4. Chapter 4

Dezirae sat on the edge of her bed nervously twiddling her thumbs while she waited for her master to get ready. They were about to go to breakfast where she would once again meet the Logicalists and Goddesses who had tried to kill her. She had every right to be a bit apprehensive. Along with meeting her potential murderers, she would also get a chance to thank the one who had saved her, the one her master abhorred passionately. Keeping her eyes on the closed bathroom door, she waited.

It startled her when the door finally opened. She jumped to her feet to stand stiffly beside the bed. Her eyes glued themselves to the floor, staring at the toes of Olga's shiny black boots when they came into view. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to press her face to his chest and cling to him his after hands rested on the top of her shoulders. Too many defenses had fallen and too much weakness had been revealed to him in a short span of time. She cursed herself silently for her stupidity and vulnerability. His hand touched her under the chin, raising her head until she was looking into his gorgeous eyes of molten gold. Her heart stumbled then slammed into her sternum where it starting beating again. Those eyes made her feeble and senseless - powerless.

"Are you afraid?" Olga asked her, examining her eyes carefully to discern the truth before she spoke.

"No," she lied, lifting her chin defiantly until his finger no longer touched it.

"Hmph," he grunted, his mouth sliding into a sideways smirk. At the moment she looked just as arrogant and self-righteous as he often pretended be. They truly seemed to be birds of a feather. She was pretending too. She lied. Without accusing her of being deceitful, he took her by the hand to lead her out of the room to the dining area where everyone would be waiting.

Dezirae gripped his hand tightly. His hand was big and strong, engulfing hers. There were no callouses or rough spots on his hands from wielding a weapon. That would soon change. She would be his weapon. Her fingers flexed around his hand, drawing his attention.

"Not so tight or you'll break it," he warned her, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Don't forget. Humans are fragile. We're strong in our own way, but not like a god."

"Sorry," she apologized, reluctantly releasing his hand. As not to intentionally hurt him again in her nervousness, she walked with her fingers interlaced and her palms pressed together. Basically she was holding her own hand for comfort and strength. The only one she had ever been able to rely on unconditionally was herself anyway. Sliding her eyes to the corners, she glimpsed at the man walking beside her. She was still not sure if she could fully trust him. It was too late to allow for misgivings. She had allowed him in too far already not to trust him.

Olga pressed a button a wall panel to open the door to the dining area. The door slid back to reveal the six people sitting at the bench seating table that reminded her of the picnic table outside. They all stared at her in silence, eyes open wide. They observed her with varying degrees of curiosity. Their expressions were devoid of fear or disgust. That was a new experience for her. They were not intimated or fearful of her. Why would they be? There was six of them and one of her not to mention they had already taken her down and captured her once.

Dezirae cleared her throat to rid herself of the lump that formed unexpectedly choking her. She bowed in greeting but refused to speak a word. Upon feeling the pressure of Olga's hand against the small of her back, she stepped forward into the room. They were not quite so intimidating in regular clothes while sitting around the table for a meal and ogling her in surprise.

"I would like you all to meet Dezirae. She has agreed to become my Covenanter," Olga announced with tremendous pride in his voice.

Dezirae could not help but be filled with confidence by his self-important boast. She lifted her head, smiling at each person in turn as they sat transfixed at the table leaving their breakfasts ignored.

Olga's announcement had been intended to bring attention to himself. However, the group's focus was solely on her. The girls stood up from the table to approach her.

"You're right, Yukari," the pretty blond with large turquoise blue eyes said, coming so close that she was almost face to face with her. "She's beautiful."

Dezirae could feel the heat of a blush creeping over her face under the girl's up close scrutiny.

"This is Chloe Maxwell. She has a tendency to say everything she thinks and act on every impulse. You'll get used to her," Olga said looking like a a long suffering father who was accustomed to his child's unusual antics. Next he introduced Chloe's partner, a goddess with remarkable, untamed auburn pig tails.

Yukari, the one whom Chloe had addressed in reference to Dezirae, stepped forward next. She carried a creature in her arms that looked like a small painted snake. Quetzalcoatl, a snake beast god, was her partner. So she was not the only beast god here, but he did not have a human form.

The other two female Logicalists, both quiet, dark haired girls, along with their Covenanters greeted her giving her their names. Tamaki and Venus, Mana and Artemis.

Dezirae repeated the names over and over in her head while gazing directly at the person so she would remember who was who. Then the other male stepped forward. He had short black hair and pretty blue eyes. He looked to be kind, and friendly, putting out his hand to shake hers after her master formally introduced them.

"I'm glad you could join us. I think you will be an amazing comrade in combat and a fantastic addition to our circle of friends," he said, shaking her hand when she pressed her palm into his.

"Friends," she repeated, allowing the word to roll around on her tongue to get a feel for it. She had never had friends and did not completely understand the concept. After observing humans, she had an idea of what it meant but not unequivocal comprehension of the term. When his hand dropped from hers, her eyes met his. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, giving her a smile laced with confusion.

"For saving me. For giving me another chance," she explained, bowing respectfully to further show her gratitude. Her eyes were drawn to Olga's face when his fingers enclosed her upper arm, pulling her back up to an upright position with a jerk.

"That's unnecessary," he told her in a low voice that bordered on a growl. "You don't need to bow to him. He's not your master."

"I know who my master is. I am not unaware," she hissed back, seething with anger. She turned her body toward him, facing him with determination making her eyes flash. If he was going to be master, he would have to become a worthy master. She _needed_ him to be a worthy master. "I also know that my master is a pitiful, weak creature with an ego as fragile as glass. You do not put anymore faith in others than you do in yourself and that is quite a small measure. You asked me to trust you. But you can't even trust yourself."

Dezirae watched as he visibly deflated before her eyes. She had punctured his overblown ego with her sharp words. Hurt, deep and heart rending, flitted through his eyes to be followed by anger. Her lips pressed into a thin line exhibiting her own ire that he had stirred. _Wretched, contemptible man,_ she thought to herself as she glowered at him. To think last night she had been willing to offer this wisp of a man her heart. She glanced at Yoshichika who had returned to the table with the others. He possessed a calm self-confidence, a contented assurance in his own abilities and Logic. Her eyes moved back to Olga. She questioned if he would ever attain that degree of composure.

Dezirae continue to stare at him, the lost little boy look on his face sapping the anger from her. She rolled her eyes and sighed. Dammit. Now, she felt the need to apologize, although she had actually done nothing wrong except bluntly tell him words he needed to hear. About the only real wrongdoing committed was that the dramatic scenario had played out in front of an equally embarrassed audience making things uncomfortable for all.

"I'm sorry everyone," she apologized turning to the shell shocked people at the table. She refused to apologize to Olga.

"We should all be getting to training," Yoshichika proclaimed, standing up from the table. "Olga, Chief wants to see the two of you before we begin. She's waiting in the small training room down the hall."

"Yes," Olga acknowledged begrudgingly.

Dezirae could plainly see that Yoshichika was the leader and Olga resented him for it. No wonder he became so offended when she bowed.

"Dezirae, are you coming?" Olga demanded after pushing the button to open the door.

"Yes, of course," she replied, pivoting on her heel to follow him. She stayed several steps behind him, keeping her head down. At the moment, she had no desire to talk to him, and she seriously doubted he wanted to talk to her either. Loneliness swamped her, slowing her steps making her entire body feel heavy. She had not felt this lonely when she had truly been alone.

 _I don't belong here. I have no place with these humans,_ she thought, trudging on.

Dezirae did not look up until they entered a room. The room was white with grid lines on the wall: a holographic chamber for running virtual battle scenarios. A woman with extremely short white hair and turquoise eyes that harbored a severe, no nonsense expression stood in the middle of the room with a diminutive lavender haired girl standing beside her. Everyone had a partner, a Covenanter, except for Olga. Until now. She contemplated if he felt as bereft and lonely as she did. They shared so many commonalities. If she believed in destiny, she would be convinced fate had brought them together.

"My name is Chief Veronica Ananko, and this is Nemesis," she introduced herself and her partner to Dezirae. Her eyes moved to Olga then she spoke directly to him. "I will be overseeing your training. You must learn to form a proper Trance before we can proceed with any other training." All business and wasting no time getting to the point.

"What do we do first?" Olga inquired gruffly. His teeth were clenched together behind his closed lips, the muscle in his taut jaw flexing convulsively.

"You need to relax or this will not happen no matter how hard you try," Chief Veronica informed him.

"I don't know if I can, ma'am," he responded stubbornly.

"Big baby," Dezirae muttered.

"What did you call me?" he growled, turning to face her.

"I injured your pride a little bit. So what?"

"Why did you say those things?"

"Because it's true! If you could get beyond, yourself you have the potential of becoming someone great!" she yelled, seizing him by the lapels of his jacket. She stood close to him, giving him her most withering glare. "Until then, you'll remain mediocre and stunted, unable to grow as a Logicalist...or a person."

"Stop it!" the Chief bellowed so they would cease arguing like children. "How do you two ever expect to establish a bond acting like this?"

"I don't know," Olga murmured, running his hands through his hair in annoyance.

"Let's begin, shall we?" the already frustrated mentor demanded.

Dezirae released the lapels of his uniform, smoothing them down before she stepped back from him to put a few feet between them. Her eyes held his as she waited for him to do something.

Suddenly Olga emitted a high pitched yell that sounded distinctly like "hee-ya" before pulling up his leg as if to execute a flying roundhouse kick. Keeping his leg bent toward his chest, he extended his arm toward her then beckoned her to come forward by waving his fingers.

"You're kidding," she grumbled, folding her arms under breasts.

"Come here. Now," he ordered her sternly.

"No," she countered, narrowing her eyes at him while shaking her head.

"I'm giving you a direct order, as your master, come here. NOW!" he bellowed, lowering his leg at last when the muscles in his thigh started to cramp.

"You're an idiot," she retorted, turning her back on him.

"Olga! As a master, and more importantly, as a Logicalist with his partner, you cannot simply issue asinine orders and make rude demands," Chief Veronica chastised him. She embraced Nemesis, holding the girl closely, tenderly. The affection and love between the two women became apparent. "We have a special bond with our Covenanters. You have to respect that bond, nurture it, let it grow." She closed her eyes, lovingly hugging her companion. "Trance."

In a flash of light the two suddenly merged, leaving behind one unified being. Veronica's uniform had changed, and she was wearing a tail coat over tight gray pants and thigh soled black boots. A black mask covered the top half of her face, and she wore a top hat. Nemesis had become her battle gear, fortifying her on the outside to protect her and empowering on the inside to enable her to fight with inhuman strength. The Chief lifted the cane she held, her weapon, and shot a bolt of pure blue energy toward the back of the room. The walls, built to withstand and absorb the energy emitted from their weapons, dispelled the destructive power of the bolt.

"Trance off," Veronica said, immediately separated herself from her Covenanter. Without any bursts of light or fanfare, they returned to being two separate beings complete with the clothes they had first been wearing.

"Fascinating," Dezirae remarked breathlessly. Neither one of them was distressed or damaged, not even winded, from the bonding. Actually, they both seemed energized and elated. The prospect of a union like that captivated her.

"Both of you need to let go of your anger," Veronica advised them. "Olga, you've observed other Logicalists for quite a while. It should be no mystery to you what the requirements are for a smooth Trance that will not be easily broken."

"Serenity. An inner stillness and peace," he sighed, closing his eyes briefly before opening them back to gaze at the back of his partner's excessively hard head. "Trust. Respect."

Dezirae dropped her arms down by hers sides, shaking them to loosen up her tense shoulders. A recollection of the kiss under the tree yesterday played like a movie in her head. They had both been unhindered by doubt, unfettered by mistrust. They had allowed themselves to act on their emotions, foregoing analytic thinking. This thing these humans called Logic was anything but logical. Their Logic was actually based mainly on emotions and instincts which was then loosely combined with decisions made from their unique life experiences and coupled with their emotional biases formed by those events. "Unbelievable."

"What is it, Dezirae?" the Chief asked her.

Dezirae ignored Veronica, closing the short distance between her and Olga. Her hands pressed to his chest while he gazed down at her questioningly.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Do you remember yesterday? The kiss? I believe we were on the verge of a Trance then," she said, sliding her hands up to his neck. She pulled to urge him to bring his lips down to hers. "Clear your mind. Look at me." She saw this eyes lowered to her mouth, concentrating on her slightly parted lips. "I'm the answer to your prayers. I can make all your dreams come true. I will remain by your side. I will stay with you forever. What do you want to do?"

"What are you talking about?" His eyes gradually returned to hers while his hands found their way into her thick black hair that she had left loose and flowing. He pulled her closer, enclosing her body with his arms.

Dezirae pulled Olga's mouth down to hers. She gave him a brief kiss to offset him, hopefully enough that he would allow his current runaway train of thought to derail. She could see it in his eyes: the calculating, the analyzing, the weighing of pros and cons as he tried to come to a sensible conclusion. Logic did not work that way. He had missed the point by the misleading name they had given it. Lifting her mouth from his, but keeping him close to her, she said, "Let me in like you did when we shared that first kiss. Don't hide your true self behind fear or mistrust or anything else. Pretend it's just the two of us here. Pretend like you've never been hurt or lonely or scared. Act on what you feel."

"But I shouldn't. It's not logical," he muttered, lowering his mouth toward hers.

"It's not. And that's what is important. Gods are beings spurred to act by impulses and emotions. You can only defeat them by doing the same," she said. Her eyes drifted closed as his lips contacted hers.

Olga's hands slipped up her back to her shoulders, gripping them as he pulled her into his chest. He held her to his body as if he would never let her go. Dezirae pressed herself into him, relying on him to hold her up, to keep her safe and secure. Her lips meandered over his before he moved his mouth to squarely covered hers. Gradually, his lips separated from hers but their bodies remained close with their arms twined around each other. One of his hands moved to cradle her head, pressing her ear to his chest so she could hear his heart beat.

"Listen to my heart," he whispered to her, hugging her. "It beats for you now. Will you accept it?"

"I will," she replied.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." She kept her eyes closed to fixate on the rhythm of his heart and his low hypnotic voice.

"Trance."

Her consciousness merged with his, a warm, encompassing sensation like being wrapped in a blanket surrounded her. Her body morphed into an ethereal, intangible form. Instead of fighting the flow as she poured herself into him, she allowed her spirit and body to run like a river to become part of his.

Once the Trance was complete, Olga stood wearing leather armor reminiscent of ancient Roman gladiators. A thick leather breastplate and back plate covered his torso. One arm was sheathed in a jointed leather arm guard from his shoulder down to his fingers. His other arm was left bare to enable him to hold the round leather covered metal shield. In his other hand he held a spear. His legs were bound in tight leather pants and further protected by metal and leather shin guards. The helmet on his head was made of burnished bronze with a horn on either side that pointed downward and the tips curled inward to come together to form a face shield.

"Well, well," Veronica murmured, a smile of approval spreading across her face. "He did it."

"I'm impressed," Nemesis commented not sounding impressed at all. "Mr. Hard Worker achieved what he had been wishing for so long."

"Congratulations, Olga Breakchild. You have found your Covenanter and achieved your first Trance."


End file.
